At first the road lay between fertile farms
dotted with shocked wheat, covered with
undulant seas of ripening oats, and forests
of growing corn. The larks were trailing melody above
the shorn and growing fields, the quail were ingathering
beside the fences, and from the forests on graceful wings
slipped the nighthawks and sailed and soared, dropping
so low that the half moons formed by white spots on
their spread wings showed plainly.

"Why is this country so different from the other side
of the city?" asked the Girl.

"It is older," replied the Harvester, "and it lies higher.
This was settled and well cultivated when that was a
swamp. But as a farming proposition, the money is
in the lowland like your uncle's. The crops raised there
are enormous compared with the yield of these fields."

"I see," said she. "But this is much better to look
at and the air is different. It lacks a soggy, depressing
quality."

"I don't allow any air to surpass that of Medicine
Woods," said the Harvester, "by especial arrangement
with the powers that be."

Then they dipped into a little depression and arose to
cross the railroad and then followed a longer valley
that was ragged and unkempt compared with the road
between cultivated fields. The Harvester was busy
trying to plan what to do first, and how to do it most
effectively, and working his brain to think if he had
everything the Girl would require for her comfort; so
he drove silently through the deepening shadows. She
shuddered and awoke him suddenly. He glanced at
her from the corner of his eye.

Her thoughts had gone on a journey, also, and the
way had been rough, for her face wore a strained
appearance. The hands lying bare in her lap were tightly
gripped, so that the nails and knuckles appeared blue.
The Harvester hastily cast around seeking for the cause
of the transformation. A few minutes ago she had
seemed at ease and comfortable, now she was close open
panic. Nothing had been said that would disturb her.
With brain alert he searched for the reason. Then it
began to come to him. The unaccustomed silence and
depression of the country might have been the beginning.
Coming from the city and crowds of people to the gloomy
valley with a man almost a stranger, going she knew not
where, to conditions she knew not what, with the
experiences of the day vivid before her. The black valley
road was not prepossessing, with its border of green
pools, through which grew swamp bushes and straggling
vines. The Harvester looked carefully at the road,
and ceased to marvel at the Girl. But he disliked to let
her know he understood, so he gave one last glance at
those gripped hands and casually held out the lines.

"Will you take these just a second?" he asked.
"Don't let them touch your dress. We must not lose
of our load, because it's mostly things that will make
you more comfortable."

He arose, and turning, pretended to see that everything
was all right. Then he resumed his seat and
drove on.

"I am a little ashamed of this stretch through here,"
he said apologetically. "I could have managed to have
it cleared and in better shape long ago, but in a way
it yields a snug profit, and so far I've preferred the
money. The land is not mine, but I could grub out
this growth entirely, instead of taking only what I need."

"Is there stuff here you use?" the Girl aroused
herself to ask, and the Harvester saw the look of relief
that crossed her face at the sound of his voice.

"Well I should say yes," he laughed. "Those bushes,
numerous everywhere, with the hanging yellow-green
balls, those, in bark and root, go into fever medicines.
They are not so much used now, but sometimes I have
a call, and when I do, I pass the beds on my----on our
land, and come down here and get what is needed.
That bush," he indicated with the whip, "blooms
exquisitely in the spring. It is a relative of flowering
dogwood, and the one of its many names I like best is
silky cornel. Isn't that pretty?"

"I've planted some for you in a hedge along the driveway
so next spring you can gather all you want. I
think you'll like the odour. The bark brings more than
true dogwood. If I get a call from some house that uses
it, I save mine and come down here. Around the edge
are hop trees, and I realize something from them, and
also the false and true bitter-sweet that run riot here.
Both of them have pretty leaves, while the berries of the
true hang all winter and the colour is gorgeous. I've
set your hedge closely with them. When it has grown
a few months it's going to furnish flowers in the spring, a
million different, wonderful leaves and berries in the
summer, many fruits the birds love in the fall, and bright
berries, queer seed pods, and nuts all winter."

"Yes. I think it will be beautiful in a season or two;
it isn't so bad now. I hope it will call myriads of birds
to keep you company. When you cross this stretch of
road hereafter, don't see fetid water and straggling bushes
and vines; just say to yourself, this helps to fill orders!"

"I am perfectly tolerant of it now," she said. "You
make everything different. I will come with you and
help collect the roots and barks you want. Which
bush did you say relieved the poor souls scorching with
fever?"

The Harvester drew on the lines, Betsy swerved to
the edge of the road, and he leaned and broke a branch.

"This one," he answered. "Buttonbush, because
those balls resemble round buttons. Aren't they
peculiar? See how waxy and gracefully cut and set
the leaves are. Go on, Betsy, get us home before night.
We appear our best early in the morning, when the sun
tops Medicine Woods and begins to light us up, and in
the evening, just when she drops behind Onabasha back
there, and strikes us with a few level rays. Will you
take the lines until I open this gate?"

She laid the twig in her lap on the white gloves and
took the lines. As the gate swung wide, Betsy walked
through and stopped at the usual place.

"Now my girl," said the Harvester, "cross yourself,
lean back, and take your ease. This side that gate
you are at home. From here on belongs to us."

"To us, I mean," declared the Harvester. "Don't
you know that the `worldly goods bestowal' clause in a
marriage ceremony is a partial reality. It doesn't give
you `all my worldly goods,' but it gives you one third.
Which will you take, the hill, lake, marsh, or a part of
all of them."

"Did I forget to mention that I was formerly sole
owner and proprietor of the lake of Lost Loons, also a
brook of Singing Water, and many cold springs. The
lake covers about one third of our land, and my neighbours
would allow me ditch outlet to the river, but they
say I'm too lazy to take it."

"I haven't so far, but of course, when you see it,
if you would prefer it in a corn----Let's play a game!
Turn your head in this direction," he indicated with
the whip, "close your eyes, and open them when I say
ready."

They were at the foot of a small levee that ran to the
bridge crossing Singing Water. On the left lay the valley
through which the stream swept from its hurried rush
down the hill, a marshy thicket of vines, shrubs, and
bushes, the banks impassable with water growth. Everywhere
flamed foxfire and cardinal flower, thousands of
wild tiger lilies lifted gorgeous orange-red trumpets,
beside pearl-white turtle head and moon daisies, while
all the creek bank was a coral line with the first opening
bloom of big pink mallows. Rank jewel flower poured
gold from dainty cornucopias and lavender beard-tongue
offered honey to a million bumbling bees; water smart-
weed spread a glowing pink background, and twining
amber dodder topped the marsh in lacy mist with its
delicate white bloom. Straight before them a white-
sanded road climbed to the bridge and up a gentle hill
between the young hedge of small trees and bushes,
where again flowers and bright colours rioted and led
to the cabin yet invisible. On the right, the hill, crowned
with gigantic forest trees, sloped to the lake; midway
the building stood, and from it, among scattering trees
all the way to the water's edge, were immense beds of
vivid colour. Like a scarf of gold flung across the face
of earth waved the misty saffron, and beside the road
running down the hill, in a sunny, open space arose
tree-like specimens of thrifty magenta pokeberry. Down
the hill crept the masses of colour, changing from dry
soil to water growth.

High around the blue-green surface of the lake waved
lacy heads of wild rice, lower cat-tails, bulrushes, and
marsh grasses; arrowhead lilies lifted spines of pearly
bloom, while yellow water lilies and blue water hyacinths
intermingled; here and there grew a pink stretch of water
smartweed and the dangling gold of jewel flower. Over
the water, bordering the edge, starry faces of white pond
lilies floated. Blue flags waved graceful leaves, willows
grew in clumps, and vines clambered everywhere.

Among the growth of the lake shore, duck, coot,
and grebe voices commingled in the last chattering
hastened splash of securing supper before bedtime; crying
killdeers crossed the water, and overhead the nighthawks
massed in circling companies. Betsy climbed the
hill and at every step the Girl cried, "Slower! please go
slower!" With wide eyes she stared around her.

"Why didn't you tell me it would be like this?" she
demanded in awed tones.

"Have I had opportunity to describe much of
anything?" asked the Harvester. "Besides, I was born
and reared here, and while it has been a garden of bloom
for the past six years only, it always has been a picture;
but one forgets to say much about a sight seen every
day and that requires the work this does."

"Pearls grown by the Almighty," answered the
Harvester. "Flowers that I hope you will love. They
are like you. Tall and slender, graceful, pearl white and
pearl pure----those are the arrowhead Lilies."

"And the wonderful purplish-red there on the bank?
Oh, I could kneel and pray before colour like that!'

"Pokeberry!" said the Harvester. "Roots bring five
cents a pound. Good blood purifier."

"Man!" cried the Girl. "How can you? I'm not
going to ask what another colour is. I'll just worship
what I like in silence."

"Will you forgive me if I tell you what a woman
whose judgment I respect says about that colour?"

"She says, `God proves that He loves it best of all the
tints in His workshop by using it first and most sparingly.'
Now are you going to punish me by keeping silent?"

"I couldn't if I tried."
Just then they came upon the bridge crossing
Singing Water, and there was a long view of its
border, rippling bed, and marshy banks; while on
the other hand the lake resembled a richly incrusted
sapphire.

"Please help me down. I want to remain here a while.
I don't care what else there is to see. Nothing can
equal this. I wish I could bring down a bed and sleep
here. I'd like to have a table, and draw and paint.
I understand now what you mean about the designs
you mentioned. Why, there must be thousands! I
can't go on. I never saw anything so appealing in all
my life."

Now the Harvester's mother had designed that bridge
and he had built it with much care. From bark-covered
railings to solid oak floor and comfortable benches
running along the sides it was intended to be a part of
the landscape.

"I'll send Belshazzar to the cabin with the wagon,"
he said, "so you can see better."

"But you must not!" she cried. "I can't walk. I
wouldn't soil these beautiful shoes for anything."

"There are shoes somewhere in this load. I thought
of them in getting other things for you, but I had no
idea as to size, and so I told that clerk to-day when she
got your measure to put in every kind you'd need."

"You are horribly extravagant," she said. "But if
you have them here, perhaps I could use one pair."

The Harvester mounted the wagon and hunted until
he found a large box, and opening it on the bench he
disclosed almost every variety of shoe, walking shoe
and slipper, a girl ever owned, as well as sandals and high
overshoes.

"For pity sake!" cried the Girl. "Cover that box!
You frighten me. You'll never get them paid for.
You must take them straight back."

"Never take anything back," said the Harvester.
" `Be sure you are right, then go ahead,' is my motto.
Now I know these are your correct size and that for
differing occasions you will want just such shoes as other
girls have, and here they are. Simple as life! I think
these will serve because they are for street wear, yet
they are white inside."

He produced a pair of canvas walking shoes and kneeling
before her held out his hand.

When he had finished, he loaded the box on the wagon,
gave the hitching strap to Belshazzar, and told him to
lead Betsy to the cabin and hold her until he came.
Then he turned to the Girl.

"Now," he said, "look as long as you choose. But
remember that the law gives you part of this and your
lover, which same am I, gives you the remainder, so
you are privileged to come here at any hour as often as
you please. If you miss anything this evening, you
have all time to come in which to re-examine it."

"I'd like to live right here on this bridge," she said.
"I wish it had a roof."

"Roof it to-morrow," offered the Harvester. "Simple
matter of a few pillars already cut, joists joined, and
some slab shingles left from the cabin. Anything else
your ladyship can suggest?"

"I was born that way," explained the Harvester,
"and I've cultivated the faculty until I've developed
real genius. Talking of sense, there never was a proper
marriage in which the man didn't give the woman a
present. You seem likely to be more appreciative of
this bridge than anything else I have, so right here and
now would be the appropriate place to offer you my
wedding gift. I didn't have much time, but I couldn't
have found anything more suitable if I'd taken a year."

"It does," answered the Girl. "But I can't take it.
You are not doing right. Marrying as we did, you never
can believe that I love you; maybe it won't ever happen
that I do. I have no right to accept gifts and expensive
clothing from you. In the first place, if the love you
ask never comes, there is no possible way in which I can
repay you. In the second, these things you are offering
are not suitable for life and work in the woods. In the
third, I think you are being extravagant, and I couldn't
forgive myself if I allowed that."

"You divide your statements like a preacher, don't
you?" asked the Harvester ingenuously. "Now sit
thee here and gaze on the placid lake and quiet your
troubled spirit, while I demolish your `perfectly good'
arguments. In the first place, you are now my wife,
and you have a right to take anything I offer, if you
care for it or can use it in any manner. In the second,
you must recognize a difference in our positions. What
seems nothing to you means all the world to me, and you
are less than human if you deprive me of the joy of
expressing feelings I am in honour bound to keep in my
heart, by these little material offerings. In the third
place, I inherited over six hundred acres of land and
water, please observe the water----it is now in evidence
on your left. All my life I have been taught to be
frugal, economical, and to work. All I've earned either
has gone back into land, into the bank, or into books,
very plain food, and such clothing as you now see me
wearing. Just the value of this place as it stands, with
its big trees, its drug crops yielding all the year round,
would be difficult to estimate; and I don't mind telling
you that on the top of that hill there is a gold mine,
and it's mine----ours since four o'clock."

"Exactly! For your peace of mind I might add that
all I have done or got is paid for, except what I bought
to-day, and I will write a check for that as soon as the
bill is made out. My bank account never will feel it
Truly, Ruth, I am not doing or going to do anything
extravagant. I can't afford to give you diamond necklaces,
yachts, and trips to Europe; but you can have
the contents of this box and a motor boat on the lake,
a horse and carriage, and a trip----say to New York
perfectly well. Please take it."

"Yes, but I do ask you," persisted the Harvester.
"You are not the only one to be considered. I have
some rights also, and I'm not so self-effacing that I
won't insist upon them. From your standpoint I am
almost a stranger. You have spent no time considering
me in near relations; I realize that. You feel as if you
were driven here for a refuge, and that is true. I said
to Belshazzar one day that I must remember that you
had no dream, and had spent no time loving me, and I
do I know how this wedding seems to you, but it's
going to mean something different and better soon,
please God. I can see your side; now suppose you
take a look at mine. I did have a dream, it was my
dream, and beyond the sum of any delight I ever
conceived. On the strength of it I rebuilt my home and
remodelled these premises. Then I saw you, and from
that day I worked early and late. I lost you and I
never stopped until I found you; and I would have
courted and won you, but the fates intervened and here
you are! So it's my delight to court and win you now.
If you knew the difference between having a dream that
stirred the least fibre of your being and facing the world in
a demand for realization of it, and then finding what you
coveted in the palm of your hand, as it were, you would
know what is in my heart, and why expression of some
kind is necessary to me just now, and why I'll explode
if it is denied. It will lower the tension, if you will
accept this as a matter of fact; as if you rather expected
and liked it, if you can."

"Don't!" she said. "I'll never have the courage if
you do. Give it to me in the case, and let me open it.
Despite your unanswerable arguments, I am quite sure
that is the only way in which I can take it."

"My wedding gift!" she exclaimed, more to herself
than to him. "Why should I be the buffet of all the
unkind fates kept in store for a girl my whole life, and
then suddenly be offered home, beautiful gifts, and wonderful
loving kindness by a stranger?"

The Harvester ran his fingers through his crisp hair,
pulled it into a peak, stepped to the seat and sitting on
the railing, he lifted his elbows, tilted his head, and
began a motley outpouring of half-spoken, half-whistled
trills and imploring cries. There was enough similarity
that the Girl instantly recognized the red bird. Out
of breath the Harvester dropped to the seat beside her.

"And don't you keep forgetting it!" he cried. "Now
open that box and put on the trinket; because I want
to take you to the cabin when the sun falls level on the
drive."

She opened the case, exposing a thread of gold that
appeared too slender for the weight of an exquisite
pendant, set with shimmering pearls.

"If you will look down there," the Harvester pointed
over the railing to the arrowhead lilies touched with
the fading light, "you will see that they are similar."

"They are!" cried the Girl. "How lovely! Which is
more beautiful I do not know. And you won't like it
if I say I must not."

" `Possession is nine points in the law,' " he quoted.
"You have taken it already and it is in your hands;
now make the gift perfect for me by putting it on and
saying nothing more."

"My wedding gift!" repeated the Girl. Slowly she
lifted the beautiful ornament and held it in the light.
"I'm so glad you just force me to take it," she said.
"Any half-normal girl would be delighted. I do accept
it. And what's more, I am going to keep and wear it
and my ring at suitable times all my life, in memory
of what you have done to be kind to me on this awful
day."

"Thank you!" said the Harvester. "That is a flash
of the proper spirit. Allow me to put it on you."

"No!" said the Girl. "Not yet! After a while! I
want to hold it in my hands, where I can see it!"

"If I had known for any length of time that this day was
coming and bringing you, as most men know when a
girl is to be given into their care, I could have made it
different. As it is, I've done the best I knew. All
your after life I hope you will believe this: Just that if
you missed anything to-day that would have made it
easier for you or more pleasant, the reason was because
of my ignorance of women and the conventions, and lack
of time. I want you to know and to feel that in my
heart those vows I took were real. This is undoubtedly
all the marrying I will ever want to do. I am old-fashioned
in my ways, and deeply imbued with the spirit
of the woods, and that means unending evolution along
the same lines.

"To me you are my revered and beloved wife, my
mate now; and I am sure nothing will make me feel
any different. This is the day of my marriage to the
only woman I ever have thought of wedding, and to
me it is joy unspeakable. With other men such a day
ends differently from the close of this with me. Because
I have done and will continue to do the level best I know
for you, this oration is the prologue to asking you for
one gift to me from you, a wedding gift. I don't want
it unless you can bestow it ungrudgingly, and truly want
me to have it. If you can, I will have all from this day
I hope for at the hands of fate. May I have the gift
I ask of you, Ruth?"

"It may seem much to you," said the Harvester;
"to me it appears only a gracious act, from a wonderful
woman, if you will give me freely, one real kiss. I've
never had one, save from a Dream Girl, Ruth, and you
will have to make yours pretty good if it is anything
like hers. You are woman enough to know that most
men crush their brides in their arms and take a thousand.
I'll put my hands behind me and never move a muscle,
and I won't ask for more, if you will crown my wedding
day with only one touch of your lips. Will you kiss
me just once, Ruth?"

"Oh Man, you shame me!" she cried. "What
kind of a heart have I that it fails to respond to such
a plea? Have I been overworked and starved so long
there is no feeling in me? I don't understand why
I don't take you in my arms and kiss you a hundred
times, but you see I don't. It doesn't seem as if I ever
could."

"Never mind," said the Harvester gently. "It was
only a fancy of mine, bred from my dream and unreasonable,
perhaps. I am sorry I mentioned it. The sun is
on the stoop now; I want you to enter your home in
its light. Come!"

He half lifted her from the bench. "I am going to
help you up the drive as I used to assist mother," he
said, fighting to keep his voice natural. "Clasp your
hands before you and draw your elbows to your sides.
Now let me take one in each palm, and you will scoot
up this drive as if you were on wheels."

"But I don't want to `scoot'," she said unsteadily.
"I must go slowly and not miss anything."

"On the contrary, you don't want to do any such
thing----you should leave most of it for to-morrow."

"I had forgotten there would be any to-morrow. It
seems as if the day would end it and set me adrift
again."

"You are going to awake in the gold room with the
sun shining on your face in the morning, and it's going
to keep on all your life. Now if you've got a smile in
your anatomy, bring it to the surface, for just beyond
this tree lies happiness for you."

His voice was clear and steady now, his confidence
something contagious. There was a lovely smile on her
face as she looked at him, and stepped into the line of
light crossing the driveway; and then she stopped and
cried, "Oh lovely! Lovely! Lovely!" over and over.
Then maybe the Harvester was not glad he had planned,
worked unceasingly, and builded as well as he knew.

The cabin of large, peeled, golden oak logs, oiled to
preserve them, nestled like a big mushroom on the side
of the hill. Above and behind the building the trees
arose in a green setting. The roof was stained to their
shades. The wide veranda was enclosed in screening,
over which wonderful vines climbed in places, and round
it grew ferns and deep-wood plants. Inside hung big
baskets of wild growth; there was a wide swinging seat,
with a back rest, supported by heavy chains. There
were chairs and a table of bent saplings and hickory
withes. Two full stories the building arose, and the
western sun warmed it almost to orange-yellow, while
the graceful vines crept toward the roof.

The Girl looked at the rapidly rising hedge on each
side of her, at the white floor of the drive, and long and
long at the cabin.

"Oh I wish it was not coming night!" she cried. "I
don't want the dark to come, until you have told me the
name of every tree and shrub of that wonderful hedge,
and every plant and vine of the veranda; and oh I
want to follow up the driveway and see that beautiful
little creek--listen to it chuckle and laugh! Is it
always glad like that? See the ferns and things that
grow on the other side of it! Why there are big beds of
them. And lilies of the valley by the acre! What is
that yellow around the corner?"

"Never mind that now," said the Harvester, guiding
her up the steps, along the gravelled walk to the screen
that he opened, and over a flood of gold light she crossed
the veranda, and entered the door.

"Now here it appears bare," said the Harvester,
"because I didn't know what should go on the walls
or what rugs to get or about the windows. The table,
chairs, and couch I made myself with some help from a
carpenter. They are solid black walnut and will age
finely."

"They are beautiful," said the Girl, softly touching
the shining table top with her fingers. "Please put
the necklace on me now, I have to use my eyes and hands
for other things."

She held out the box and the Harvester lifted the
pendant and clasped the chain around her neck. She
glanced at the lustrous pearls and then the fingers of
one hand softly closed over them. She went through
the long, wide living-room, examining the chairs and
mantel, stopping to touch and exclaim over its array
of half-finished candlesticks. At the door of his room
she paused. "And this?" she questioned.

"Mine," said the Harvester, turning the knob. "I'll
give you one peep to satisfy your curiosity, and show
you the location of the bridge over which you came to
me in my dream. All the remainder is yours. I reserve
only this."

"Not goblins, but a man alive; so heed your warning.
After you have seen it, keep away."

The floor was cement, three of the walls heavy screening
with mosquito wire inside, the roof slab shingled.
On the inner wall was a bookcase, below it a desk, at
one side a gun cabinet, at the other a bath in a small
alcove beside a closet. The room contained two chairs
like those of the veranda, and the bed was a low oak
couch covered with a thick mattress of hemlock twigs,
topped with sweet fern, on which the sun shone all day.
On a chair at the foot were spread some white sheets,
a blanket, and an oilcloth. The sun beat in, the wind
drifted through, and one lying on the couch could see
down the bright hill, and sweep the lake to the opposite
bank without lifting the head. The Harvester drew the
Girl to the bedside.

"Now straight in a line from here," he said, "across
the lake to that big, scraggy oak, every clear night the
moon builds a bridge of molten gold, and once you walked
it, my girl, and came straight to me, alone and unafraid;
and you were gracious and lovely beyond anything a
man ever dreamed of before. I'll have that to think of
to-night. Now come see the dining-room, kitchen, and
hand-made sunshine."

He led her into what had been the front room of the
old cabin, now a large, long dining-room having on each
side wide windows with deep seats. The fireplace
backwall was against that of the living-room, but here
the mantel was bare. All the wood-work, chairs, the
dining table, cupboards, and carving table were golden
oak. Only a few rugs and furnishings and a woman's
touch were required to make it an unusual and beautiful
room. The kitchen was shining with a white hard-wood
floor, white wood-work, and pale green walls. It was a
light, airy, sanitary place, supplied with a pump, sink,
hot and cold water faucets, refrigerator, and every
modern convenience possible to the country.

Then the Harvester almost carried the Girl up the
stairs and showed her three large sleeping rooms, empty
and bare save for some packing cases.

"I didn't know about these, so I didn't do anything.
When you find time to plan, tell me what you want, and
I'll make--or buy it. They are good-sized, cool rooms.
They all have closets and pipes from the furnace, so they
will be comfortable in winter. Now there is your place
remaining. I'll leave you while I stable Betsy and feed
the stock."

"This is the sunshine spot," he said. "It is bathed
in morning light, and sheltered by afternoon shade.
Singing Water is across the drive there to talk to you
always. It comes pelting down so fast it never freezes,
so it makes music all winter, and the birds are so numerous
you'll have to go to bed early for they'll wake you by
dawn. I noticed this room was going to be full of sunshine
when I built it, and I craved only brightness for
you, so I coaxed all of it to stay that I could. Every
stroke is the work of my hands, and all of the furniture.
I hope you will like it. This is the room of which I've
been telling you, Ruth. Go in and take possession,
and I'll entreat God and all His ministering angels to
send you sunshine and joy."

He opened the door, guided her inside, closed it, and
went swiftly to his work.

The Girl stood and looked around her with amazed
eyes. The floor was pale yellow wood, polished until
it shone like a table top. The casings, table, chairs,
dressing table, chest of drawers, and bed were solid
curly maple. The doors were big polished slabs of it,
each containing enough material to veneer all the furniture
in the room. The walls were of plaster, tinted
yellow, and the windows with yellow shades were
curtained in dainty white. She could hear the Harvester
carrying the load from the wagon to the front porch, the
clamour of the barn yard; and as she went to the north
window to see the view, a shining peacock strutted down
the walk and went to the Harvester's hand for grain,
while scores of snow-white doves circled over his head.
She stepped on deep rugs of yellow goat skins, and,
glancing at the windows on either side, she opened the
door.

Outside it lay a porch with a railing, but no roof.
On each post stood a box filled with yellow wood-flowers
and trailing vines of pale green. A big tree rising through
one corner of the floor supplied the cover. A gate
opened to a walk leading to the driveway, and on either
side lay a patch of sod, outlined by a deep hedge of
bright gold. In it saffron, cone-flowers, black-eyed
Susans, golden-rod, wild sunflowers, and jewel flower
grew, and some of it, enough to form a yellow line, was
already in bloom. Around the porch and down the
walk were beds of yellow violets, pixie moss, and every
tiny gold flower of the woods. The Girl leaned against
the tree and looked around her and then staggered
inside and dropped on the couch.

"What planning! What work!" she sobbed. "What
taste! Why he's a poet! What wonderful beauty!
He's an artist with earth for his canvas, and growing
things for colours."

She lay there staring at the walls, the beautiful wood-
work and furniture, the dressing table with its array of
toilet articles, a low chair before it, and the thick rug
for her feet. Over and over she looked at everything,
and then closed her eyes and lay quietly, too weary and
overwhelmed to think. By and by came tapping at
the door, and she sprang up and crossing to the
dressing table straightened her hair and composed
her face.

"Don't be frightened if he screams at you," warned
the Harvester as she passed him. "He detests a stranger,
and he always cries and sulks."

It was a question what was in the head of the bird as
he saw the strange looking creature invading his domain,
and he did scream, a wild, high, strident wail that
delighted the Harvester inexpressibly, because it sent the
Girl headlong into his arms.

"Oh, good gracious!" she cried. "Has such a
beautiful bird got a noise in it like that? Why
I've fed them in parks and I never heard one explode
before."

"I am afraid I can't tell you that," said the Harvester.
"I had to invent a plan for myself. It required a long
time and much petting, and my methods might not
avail for you. It will interest you to study that out.
But the member of the family it is positively essential
that you win to a life and death allegiance is Belshazzar.
If you can make him love you, he will protect you at
every turn. He will go before you into the forest and
all the crawling, creeping things will get out of his way.
He will nose around the flowers you want to gather, and
if he growls and the hair on the back of his neck rises,
never forget that you must heed that warning. A few
times I have not stopped for it, and I always have been
sorry. So far as anything animate or uncertain footing
is concerned, you are always perfectly safe if you obey
him. About touching plants and flowers, you must
confine yourself to those you are certain you know,
until I can teach you. There are gorgeous and wonderfully
attractive things here, but some of them are rank
poison. You won't handle plants you don't know,
until you learn, Ruth?"

She went to the seat under the porch tree and leaning
against the trunk she studied the hill, and the rippling
course of Singing Water where it turned and curved
before the cabin, and started across the vivid little
marsh toward the lake. Then she looked at the Harvester.
He seated himself on the low railing and smiled at
her.

"No," she said. "You are right about the air being
better up here. It is stimulating instead of depressing."

"So far as pure air, location, and water are concerned,"
said the Harvester, "I consider this place ideal. The
lake is large enough to cool the air and raise sufficient
moisture to dampen it, and too small to make it really
cold and disagreeable. The slope of the hill gives perfect
drainage. The heaviest rains do not wet the earth for
more than three hours. North, south, and west breezes
sweep the cool air from the water to the cabin in summer.
The same suns warm us here on the winter hillside.
My violets, spring beauties, anemones, and dutchman's
breeches here are always two weeks ahead of those in
the woods. I am not afraid of your not liking the location
or the air. As for the cabin, if you don't care for
that, it's very simple. I'll transform it into a laboratory
and dry-house, and build you whatever you want,
within my means, over there on the hill just across
Singing Water and facing the valley toward Onabasha.
That's a perfect location. The thing that worries me
is what you are going to do for company, especially while
I am away."

"Don't trouble yourself about anything," she said.
"Just say in your heart, `she is going to be stronger than
she ever has been in her life in this lovely place, and she
has more right now than she ever had or hoped to have.'
For one thing, I am going to study your books. I never
have had time before. While we sewed or embroidered,
mother talked by the hour of the great writers of the
world, told me what they wrote, and how they expressed
themselves, but I got to read very little for myself."

"Almost never! Doc and his wife come most, and
if you look out some day and see a white-haired, bent
old woman, with a face as sweet as dawn, coming up the
bank of Singing Water, that will be my mother's friend,
Granny Moreland, who joins us on the north over there.
She is frank and brusque, so she says what she thinks
with unmistakable distinctness, but her heart is big and
tender and her philosophy keeps her sweet and kindly
despite the ache of rheumatism and the weight of seventy years."

"Your favourite word," laughed the Harvester. "The
reason lies with me, or rather with my mother. Some
day I will tell you the whole story, and the cause. I
think now I can encompass it in this. The place is an
experiment. When medicinal herbs, roots, and barks
became so scarce that some of the most important were
almost extinct, it occurred to me that it would be a
good idea to stop travelling miles and poaching on the
woods of other people, and turn our land into an herb
garden. For four years before mother went, and six
since, I've worked with all my might, and results are
beginning to take shape. While I've been at it, of course,
my neighbours had an inkling of what was going on,
and I've been called a fool, lazy, and a fanatic, because
I did not fell the trees and plow for corn. You readily
can see I'm a little short of corn ground out there,"
he waved toward the marsh and lake, "and up there,"
he indicated the steep hill and wood. "But somewhere
on this land I've been able to find muck for mallows,
water for flags and willows, shade for ferns, lilies, and
ginseng, rocky, sunny spaces for mullein, and open, fertile
beds for Bouncing Bet----just for examples. God never
evolved a place better suited for an herb farm; from
woods to water and all that goes between, it is perfect."

"Yes, I think it is," said the Harvester. "But in
the days when I didn't know how it was coming out,
I was sensitive about it; so I kept quiet and worked,
and allowed the other fellow to do the talking. After
a while the ginseng bed grew a treasure worth guarding,
and I didn't care for any one to know how much I had
or where it was, as a matter of precaution. Ginseng
and money are synonymous, and I was forced to be away
some of the time."

"Certainly!" said the Harvester. "If they knew it
was there, and what it is worth. Then, as I've told you,
much of the stuff here must not be handled except
by experts, and I didn't want people coming in my
absence and taking risks. The remainder of my reason
for living so alone is cowardice, pure and simple."

"Thank you!" said the Harvester. "But it is!
Some day I'll tell you of a very solemn oath I've had to
keep. It hasn't been easy. You wouldn't understand,
at least not now. If the day ever comes when I think
you will, I'll tell you. Just now I can express it by
that one word. I didn't dare fail or I felt I would be
lost as my father was before me. So I remained away
from the city and its temptations and men of my age,
and worked in the woods until I was tired enough to
drop, read books that helped, tinkered with the carving,
and sometimes I had an idea, and I went into that little
building behind the dry-house, took out my different
herbs, and tried my hand at compounding a new cure
for some of the pains of humanity. It isn't bad work,
Ruth. It keeps a fellow at a fairly decent level, and some
good may come of it. Carey is trying several formulae
for me, and if they work I'll carry them higher. If
you want money, Girl, I know how to get it for you."

"Not one cent more than I've got," said the Harvester
emphatically. "When any man accumulates more than
he can earn with his own hands, he begins to enrich
himself at the expense of the youth, the sweat, the
blood, the joy of his fellow men. I can go to the city,
take a look, and see what money does, as a rule, and
it's another thing I'm afraid of. You will find me a
dreadful coward on those two points. I don't want
to know society and its ways. I see what it does to
other men; it would be presumption to reckon myself
stronger. So I live alone. As for money, I've watched
the cross cuts and the quick and easy ways to accumulate
it; but I've had something in me that held me to
the slow, sure, clean work of my own hands, and it's
yielded me enough for one, for two even, in a reasonable
degree. So I've worked, read, compounded, and carved.
If I couldn't wear myself down enough to sleep by any
other method, I went into the lake, and swam across and
back; and that is guaranteed to put any man to rest,
clean and unashamed."

"Six years," said the Girl softly, as she studied him.
"I think it has set a mark on you. I believe I can trace
it. Your forehead, brow, and eyes bear the lines and
the appearance of all experience, all comprehension,
but your lips are those of a very young lad. I shouldn't
be surprised if I had that kiss ready for you, and I really
believe I can make it worth while."

"Oh good Lord!" cried the Harvester, turning a
backward somersault over the railing and starting in
big bounds up the drive toward the stable. He passed
around it and into the woods at a rush and a few seconds
later from somewhere on the top of the hill his strong,
deep voice swept down, "Glory, glory hallelujah!"

He sang it through at the top of his lungs, that
majestic old hymn, but there was no music at all, it was
simply a roar. By and by he came soberly to the barn
and paused to stroke Betsy's nose.

"Stop chewing grass and listen to me," he said. "She's
here, Betsy! She's in our cabin. She's going to remain,
you can stake your oats on that. She's going to be the
loveliest and sweetest girl in all the world, and because
you're a beast, I'll tell you something a man never could
know. Down with your ear, you critter! She's going
to kiss me, Betsy! This very night, before I lay me,
her lips meet mine, and maybe you think that won't
be glorious. I supposed it would be a year, anyway,
but it's now! Ain't you glad you are an animal, Betsy,
and can keep secrets for a fool man that can't?"

He walked down the driveway, and before the Girl
had a chance to speak, he said, "I wonder if I had not
better carry those things into your room, and arrange
your bed for you."

"That is a part of my arrangements for you," said
the Harvester. "Here is a closet with shelves for your
covers and other things. They are bare because I
didn't know just what should be put on them. This
is the shoe box here in the corner; I'll put these in it
now."

He knelt and in a row set the shoes in the curly maple
box and closed it.

"There you are for all kinds of places and varieties of
weather. This adjoining is your bathroom. I put
in towels, soaps; brushes, and everything I could think
of, and there is hot water ready for you----rain water,
too."

The Girl followed and looked into a shining little
bathroom, with its white porcelain tub and wash bowl,
enamelled wood-work, dainty green walls, and white
curtains and towels. She could see no accessory she
knew of that was missing, and there were many things
to which she never had been accustomed. The Harvester
had gone back to the sunshine room, and was kneeling
on the floor beside the bundle. He began opening
boxes and handing her dresses.

"There are skirt, coat, and waist hangers on the
hooks," he said. "I only got a few things to start on,
because I didn't know what you would like. Instead
of being so careful with that dress, why don't you take
it off, and put on a common one? Then we will have
something to eat, and go to the top of the hill and watch
the moon bridge the lake."

While she hung the dresses and selected the one to
wear, he placed the mattress, spread the padding and
sheets, and encased the pillow. Then he bent and pressed
the springs with his hands.

"I think you will find that soft and easy enough for
health," he said. "All the personal belongings I had
that clerk put up for you are in that chest of drawers
there. I put the little boxes in the top and went down.
You can empty and arrange them to-morrow. Just
hunt out what you will need now. There should be
everything a girl uses there somewhere. I told them to
be very careful about that. If the things are not right
or not to your taste, you can take them back as soon as
you are rested, and they will exchange them for you.
If there is anything I have missed that you can think
of that you need to-night, tell me and I'll go and get it."

"You couldn't be making sport of me," she said,
"but Man! Can't you see that I don't know what to
do with half you have here? I never saw such things
closely before. I don't know what they are for. I
don't know how to use them. My mother would have
known, but I do not. You overwhelm me! Fifty
times I've tried to tell you that a room of my very own,
such a room as this will be when to-morrow's sun comes
in, and these, and these, and these," she turned from
the chest of boxes to the dressing table, bed, closet, and
bath, "all these for me, and you know absolutely
nothing about me----I get a big lump in my throat,
and the words that do come all seem so meaningless,
I am perfectly ashamed to say them. Oh Man, why do
you do it?"

"I thought it was about time to spring another `why'
on me," said the Harvester. "Thank God, I am now
in a position where I can tell you `why'! I do it because
you are the girl of my dream, my mate by every law of
Heaven and earth. All men build as well as they know
when the one woman of the universe lays her spell on
them. I did all this for myself just as a kind of
expression of what it would be in my heart to do if I
could do what I'd like. Put on the easiest dress you can
find and I will go and set out something to eat."

She stood with arms high piled with the prettiest
dresses that could be selected hurriedly, the tears running
down her white cheeks and smiled through them at him.

"You will when you see and smell it," said the
Harvester. "I am an expert cook. It's my chiefest
accomplishment. You should taste the dishes I improvise.
But there won't be much to-night, because I want you
to see the moon rise over the lake."

He went away and the Girl removed her dress and
spread it on the couch. Then she bathed her face and
hands. When she saw the discoloured cloth, it proved
that she had been painted, and made her very indignant.
Yet she could not be altogether angry, for that flush
of colour had saved the Harvester from being pitied by
his friend. She stood a long time before the mirror,
staring at her gaunt, colourless face; then she went
to the dressing table and committed a crime. She
found a box of cream and rubbed it on for a foundation.
Then she opened some pink powder, and carefully dusted
her cheeks.

"I am utterly ashamed," she said to the image in the
mirror, "but he has done so much for me, he is so, so----
I don't know a word big enough----that I can't bear him
to see how ghastly I am, how little worth it. Perhaps
the food, better air, and outdoor exercise will give me
strength and colour soon. Until it does I'm afraid I'm
going to help out all I can with this. It is wonderful
how it changes one. I really appear like a girl instead
of a bony old woman."

Then she looked over the dresses, selected a pretty
white princesse, slipped it on, and went to the kitchen.
But the Harvester would not have her there. He seated
her at the dining table, beside the window overlooking
the lake, lighted a pair of his home-made candles in his
finest sticks, and placed before her bread, butter, cold
meat, milk, and fruit, and together they ate their first
meal in their home.

"If I had known," said the Harvester, "Granny
Moreland is a famous cook. She is a Southern woman,
and she can fry chicken and make some especial dishes
to surpass any one I ever knew. She would have been
so pleased to come over and get us an all-right supper."

"Well, you can bank on it, I would," agreed the
Harvester. "For instance, if any one were here, I
might feel restrained about telling you that you are
exactly the beautiful, flushed Dream Girl I have adored
for months, and your dress most becoming. You are
a picture to blind the eyes of a lonely bachelor, Ruth."

"Oh why did you say that?" wailed the Girl. "Now
I've got to feel like a sneak or tell you----and I didn't
want you to know."

"Don't you ever tell me or any one else anything you
don't want to," said the Harvester roundly. "It's
nobody's business!"

"But I must! I can't begin with deception. I was
fool enough to think you wouldn't notice. Man, they
painted me! I didn't know they were doing it, but when
it all washed off, I looked so ghastly I almost frightened
myself. I hunted through the boxes they put up for
you and found some pink powder----"

"But don't all the daintiest women powder these
days, and consider it indispensable? The clerk said so,
and I've noticed it mentioned in the papers. I bought
it for you to use."

"Yes, just powder, but Man, I put on a lot of cold
cream first to stick the powder good and thick. Oh
I wish I hadn't!"

"Well since you've told it, is your conscience
perfectly at ease? No you don't! You sit where you are!
You are lovely, and if you don't use enough powder to
cover the paleness, until your colour returns, I'll hold
you and put it on. I know you feel better when you
appear so that every one must admire you."

"You are no such thing!" cried the Harvester hotly.
"There hasn't a woman in ten thousand got any such
rope of hair. I have been seeing the papers on the hair
question, too. No one will believe it's real. If they
think your hair is false, when it is natural, they won't
be any more fooled when they think your colour is real,
and it isn't. Very soon it will be and no one need ever
know the difference. You go on and fix up your level
best. To see yourself appearing well will make you
ambitious to become so as soon as possible."

"Harvester-man," said the Girl, gazing at him with
wet luminous eyes, "for the sake of other women, I
could wish that all men had an oath to keep, and had
been reared in the woods."

"Here is the place we adjourn to the moon," cried
the Harvester. "I don't know of anything that can cure
a sudden accession of swell head like gazing at the heavens.
One finds his place among the atoms naturally and
instantaneously with the eyes on the night sky. Should
you have a wrap? You should! The mists from the
lake are cool. I don't believe there is one among my
orders. I forgot that. But upstairs with mother's
clothing there are several shawls and shoulder capes.
All of them were washed and carefully packed. Would
you use one, Ruth?"

"Why not give it to me. Wouldn't she like me to
wear her things better than to have them lying in moth
balls?"

"All the washed things are in those boxes upstairs;
also some fine skins I've saved on the chance of wanting
them. Her dishes are in the bottom of the china closet
there; she was mighty proud of them. The furniture
and carpets were so old and abused I burned them. I'll
go bring a wrap."

He took the candle and climbed the stairs, soon
returning with a little white wool shawl and a big pink
coverlet.

"Got this for her Christmas one time," he said. "She'd
never had a white one and she thought it was pretty."

"Just as I thought! It's a genuine Peter Hartman!
It's one of the things that money can't buy, or, rather,
one that takes a mint of money to own. They are
heirlooms. They are not manufactured any more.
At the art store where I worked they'd give you fifty
dollars for that. It is not faded or worn a particle.
It would be lovely in my room; you mustn't take a
treasure like that out of doors."

"Ruth, are you in earnest?" demanded the Harvester.
"I believe there are six of them upstairs."

"Nothing worth carrying away, except what you have
on. No one to get in. There is a big swamp back of
our woods, marsh in front, we're up here where we can
see the drive and bridge. There is nothing possible
from any direction. Never locked the cabin in my life,
except your room, and that was because it was sacred,
not that there was any danger. Clear the way, Bel!"

"You are indeed," said the Harvester. "Now see
if you think this is pretty."

He indicated the hill sloping toward the lake. The
path wound among massive trees, between whose branches
patches of moonlight filtered. Around the lake shore
and climbing the hill were thickets of bushes. The
water lay shining in the light, a gentle wind ruffled the
surface in undulant waves, and on the opposite bank
arose the line of big trees. Under a giant oak widely
branching, on the top of the hill, the Harvester spread
the rug and held one end of it against the tree trunk to
protect the Girl's dress. Then he sat a little distance
away and began to talk. He mingled some sense with
a quantity of nonsense, and appreciated every hint of a
laugh he heard. The day had been no amusing matter
for a girl absolutely alone among strange people and
scenes. Anything more foreign to her previous environment
or expectations he could not imagine. So he
talked to prevent her from thinking, and worked for a
laugh as he laboured for bread.

"Now we must go," he said at last. "If there is the
malaria I strongly suspect in your system, this night air
is none too good for you. I only wanted you to see the
lake the first night in your new home, and if it won't
shock you, I brought you here because this is my holy
of holies. Can you guess why I wanted you to come,
Ruth?"

"If I wasn't so stupid with alternate burning and
chills, and so deadened to every proper sensibility, I
suppose I could," she answered, "but I'm not brilliant.
I don't know, unless it is because you knew it would be
the loveliest place I ever saw. Surely there is no other
spot in the world quite so beautiful."

"Then would it seem strange to you," asked the
Harvester going to the Girl and gently putting his arms
around her, "would it seem strange to you, that a woman
who once homed here and thought it the prettiest place
on earth, chose to remain for her eternal sleep, rather
than to rest in a distant city of stranger dead?"

"Very close," said the Harvester. "Under this oak.
She used to say that she had a speaking acquaintance
with every tree on our land, and of them all she loved
this big one the best. She liked to come here in winter,
and feel the sting of the wind sweeping across the lake,
and in summer this was her place to read and to think.
So when she slept the unwaking sleep, Ruth, I came
here and made her bed with my own hands, and then
carried her to it, covered her, and she sleeps well. I
never have regretted her going. Life did not bring her
joy. She was very tired. She used to say that after
her soul had fled, if I would lay her here, perhaps the
big roots would reach down and find her, and from
her frail frame gather slight nourishment and then
her body would live again in talking leaves that would
shelter me in summer and whisper her love in winter.
Of all Medicine Woods this is the dearest spot to me.
Can you love it too, Ruth?"

"Oh I can!" cried the Girl; "I do now! Just to see
the place and hear that is enough. I wish, oh to my
soul I wish----"

"I dare not! I was wild to think of it. I would be
ungrateful to ask it."

"You would be ungracious if you didn't ask anything
that would give me the joy of pleasing you. How long
is it going to require for you to learn, Ruth, that to make
up for some of the difficulties life has brought you would
give me more happiness than anything else could?
Tell me now."

"Ruth, there is no reason why you should be actively
unkind to me. What is it you wish?"

She struggled from his arms and stood alone in white
moonlight, staring across the lake, along the shore, deep
into the perfumed forest, and then at the mound she now
could distinguish under the giant tree. Suddenly she
went to him and with both shaking hands gripped his
arm.

"My mother!" she panted. "Oh she was a beautiful
woman, delicately reared, and her heart was crushed and
broken. By the inch she went to a dreadful end I could
not avert or allay, and in poverty and grime I fought
for a way to save her body from further horror, and it's
all so dreadful I thought all feeling in me was dried
and still, but I am not quite calloused yet. I suffer
it over with every breath. It is never entirely out of
my mind. Oh Man, if only you would lift her from the
horrible place she lies, where briers run riot and cattle
trample and the unmerciful sun beats! Oh if only you'd
lift her from it, and bring her here! I believe it would
take away some of the horror, the shame, and the heartache.
I believe I could go to sleep without hearing the
voice of her suffering, if I knew she was lying on this hill,
under your beautiful tree, close the dear mother you
love. Oh Man, would you----?"

The Harvester crushed the Girl in his arms and
shuddering sobs shook his big frame, and choked his voice.

"Ruth, for God's sake, be quiet!" he cried. "Why I'd
be glad to! I'll go anywhere you tell me, and bring her,
and she shall rest where the lake murmurs, the trees
shelter, the winds sing, and earth knows the sun only
in long rays of gold light."

"Ruth, child," said the Harvester, "I tell you I'd be
happy. Look at my side of this! I'm in search of bands
to bind you to me and to this place. Could you tell
me a stronger than to have the mother you idolized
lie here for her long sleep? Why Girl, you can't know
the deep and abiding joy it would give me to bring
her. I'd feel I had you almost secure. Where is she
Ruth?"

"In that old unkept cemetery south of Onabasha,
where it costs no money to lay away your loved ones."

"How could I? I had nothing. I could not have
paid even her fare and brought her here in the cheapest
box the decency of man would allow him to make if
her doctor had not given me the money I owe. Now
do you understand why I must earn and pay it myself?
Save for him, it was charity or her delicate body to
horrors. Money never can repay him."

She was laughing in the moonlight. "Oh Man, I
can't ever, ever tell you!"

"Don't try," said the Harvester. "Call it settled.
I will start early in the morning. I know that little
cemetery. The man whose land it is on can point me
the spot. She is probably the last one laid there. Come
now, Ruth. Go to the room I made for you, and sleep
deeply and in peace. Will you try to rest?"

"Oh David!" she exulted. "Only think! Here where
it's clean and cool; beside the lake, where leaves fall gently
and I can come and sit close to her and bring flowers; and
she never will be alone, for your dear mother is here. Oh
David!"

"It is better. I can't thank you enough for thinking
of it. Come now, let me help you."

He half carried her down the hill. Then he made the
cabin a glamour of light by putting candles in the sticks
he had carved and placing them everywhere.

"There is a lighting plant in the basement," he said,
"but I had not expected to use it until winter, and I
have no acetylene. Candles were our grandmothers'
lights and they are the best anyway. Go bathe your
face, Ruth, and wash away all trace of tears. Put on
the pink powder, and in a few weeks you will have
colour to outdo the wildest rose. You must be as gay
as you can the remainder of this night."

"I will!" cried the Girl. "I will! Oh I didn't know
a thing on earth could make me happy! I didn't know
I really could be glad. Oh if the ice in my heart would
melt, and the wall break down, and the girlhood I've
never known would come yet! Oh David, if it would!"

"Before the Lord it shall!" vowed the Harvester.
"It shall come with the fulness of joy right here in
Medicine Woods. Think it! Believe it! Keep it before
you! Work for it! Happiness is worth while!
All of us have a right to it! It shall be yours and soon."

"I will try! I will!" promised the Girl. "I'll go
right now and I'll put on the blessed pink powder so
thickly you'll never know what is under it, and soon it
won't be needed at all."

She was laughing as she left the room. The Harvester
restlessly walked the floor a few minutes and then sat
with a notebook and began entering stems.

When the Girl returned, he brought the pillow from her
bed, folded the coverlet, and she lay on them in the big
swing. He covered her with the white shawl, and while
Singing Water sang its loudest, katydids exulted over
the delightful act of their ancestor, and a million gauze-
winged creatures of night hummed against the screen,
in a voice soft and low he told her in a steady stream,
as he swayed her back and forth, what each sound of the
night was, and how and why it was made all the way
from the rumbling buzz of the June bug to the screech
of the owl and the splash of the bass in the lake. All
of it, as it appealed to him, was the story of steady
evolution, the natural processes of reproduction, the joy of
life and its battles, and the conquest of the strong in
nature. At his hands every sound was stripped of terror.
The leaping bass was exulting in life, the screeching owl
was telling its mate it had found a fat mouse for the
children, the nighthawk was courting, the big bull
frogs booming around the lake were serenading the moon.
There was not a thing to fear or a voice left with an
unsympathetic note in it. She was half asleep when at last
he helped her to her room, set a pitcher of frosty, clinking
drink on her table, locked her door and window screens
inside, spread Belshazzar's blanket on her porch, and set
his door wide open, that he might hear if she called, and then
said good night and went back to his memorandum book.

"No bad beginning," he muttered softly, "no bad
beginning, but I'd almost give my right hand if she hadn't
forgotten----"

In her room the exhausted Girl slipped the pins from
her hair and sank on the low chair before the dressing-
table. She picked up the shining, silver backed brush
and stared at the monogram, R. F. L, entwined on it.

"My soul!" she exclaimed. "Was he so sure as that?
Was there ever any other man like him?"

She dropped the brush and with tired hands pushed
back the heavy braids. Then she arose and going to
the chest of drawers began lifting lids to find a night
robe. As she searched the boxes she found every dainty,
pretty undergarment a girl ever used and at last the
robes. She shook out a long white one, slipped into it,
and walked to the bed. That stood as he had arranged
it, white, clean, and dainty.

"Everything for me!" she said softly. "Everything
for me! Shall there be nothing for him? Oh he makes
it easy, easy!"

She stepped to the closet, picked down a lavender
silk kimona and drawing it over her gown she gathered it
around her and opening the bathroom door, she stepped
into a little hall leading to the dining-room. As she
entered the living-room the Harvester bent over his book.
Her step was very close when he heard it and turned his
head. In an instant she touched his shoulders. The
Harvester dropped the pencil, and palm downward laid
his hands on the table, his promise strong in his heart.
The Girl slid a shaking palm under his chin, leaned
his head against her breast, and dropped a sweet, tear-wet
face on his. With all the strength of her frail arms she
gripped him a second, and then gave the kiss, into which
she tried to put all she could find no words to express.